A Clockwork Orange
by hello freak show
Summary: Sam faces Karofsky, with horribly unexpected results. Potential sam/kurt.
1. Initiative comes to thems that wait

"Yeah, I think you'd better man up! Or you're gonna have a new enemy- MY RIGHT FIST!"

The boys in jerseys scattered about the locker room kept their heads down and their mouths quiet as they cleaned up after the game. The losing game. For the past few weeks, Karofsky had been unbearably angry. However, there was a collective, silent agreement to remain silent amongst the upperclassmen of the team. The freshmen where getting the rap. Everyone tried to tune out David gruff screams, all too used to it. And everyone felt fine.

Everyone except Sam Evans.

Every word out of Karofsky's mouth made Sam sick to his stomach. He was racist, homophobic, and incredibly self-resilient. Sam often found himself the only person to ever get involved when Karofsky went on one of his tirades.

"Hey!" He yelped, raising his shaggy blonde head. Karofsky went momentarily quiet, and Sam felt calmer.

"Shut up."

The team laughed. Sam smiled a little, glad to have melted the tension.

"'cuse me?"

Karofsky left the freshmen for a more formidable opponent.

"You heard me. Relax."

"HEY!" He shoved Sam's shoulders with a grunt. Sam tripped a little, but remained upright.

"Just give it a rest man. Check out a therapist or something."

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

Sam sighed, deciding maybe it would be best to just ignore him. He grabbed his bags.

"Let's jet, Sam." Finn gestured for the door, not wanting things to get out of hand.

"Not so fast, blondie."

Sam rolled his eyes. Karofsky never stopped.

"You. Me. After school. Tomorrow. Five o'clock."

"What is this, _Kids in the Hall_?"

Karofsky didn't get the reference, but Mike chuckled to himself. He stood in the corner next to Artie's old locker. Artie quit the team a month ago, due less to stress and more to getting Tina back.

"Watch it, chink!" Karofsky rose a deafening fist his way before meeting eyes with Sam again.

Sam suddenly found the words escape his lips. "Make it five-thirty."

The locker room went silent.

"I need time for a protein shake."

"Fine." Something incredibly evil lurked behind Karofsky's smile. Sam felt like an old time movie super hero.

Karofsky turned to face the team.

"And not one of you wussys better show up, or angel face here gets it even worse."

He stormed out, shaking the lockers as he left.

"Someone's seen _Fight Club _way too many times."

"Sam…" Mike stood next to him. "You don't have to do this."

"Yeah man." Finn interjected. "Just.. he's dangerous, you know?"

"_Whatever._ He needs to learn that he can't just go around spouting all that shit. We're losing because of _him"_

"We know that, Sam. But you're the quarter back. We can't have you limping through the next game." Puck muttered, trying to be helpful. Puck had Quinn now, after all, so he didn't have much against Sam.

"Me limping?" Sam grinned a little sideways grin. "Trust me. Not gonna happen."

Sam's cool confidence made everyone more comfortable.

Finn nodded. "Alright, man." They boys started to trickle out.

"Stairway to heaven was defiantly led zeppelin four."

Sam, Finn, Mike, and Puck were crowded into Puck's Volvo like clowns in a punch buggy as they rode to school. They behaved characteristically, but the tension from last night's events remained. Even more so when they met in the choir room for Glee club practice, and apparently, word had gotten around about Sam and Dave's scuttle. It had become a public debate.

"I have faith in Sam, though! A punch here, a kick there- his muscles got way more tone-" Artie was throwing fisticuffs to support his argument. Santana's arguments were involved as well. "Please, as if baby face will even show up."

"Angel face." Sam corrected. Santana rolled her eyes.

"Whatever. You'll probably cop out."

Sam ignored her, finding a plastic chair on the other side of the room. She still hadn't forgotten when they 'almost' got together, without much success.

"Why is my personal life up for discussion, might I ask?" Sam rose his eyebrows.

"Welcome to Glee Club?" Kurt took the seat next to him, smiling softly. Kurt had returned from Dalton a few weeks ago, after his parent's savings ran out and his family lost hope for a winning lotto ticket. Since then, the Glee club had acted as a force wall, like a secret service protecting him against Karofsky, just as Puck had suggested. But Kurt was still a little unsteady at McKinley, always a little worried. He'd changed, and Sam knew it. Over French and English tutoring sessions, they'd become pretty good friends.

"I don't think finding Karofsky's going to help anything, just so you know. Our football team is destined to lose anyway."

Sam grinned, fluffing Kurt's hair. "Hey. I'm going to teach him a lesson, don't worry."

Mercedes and Quinn had perched themselves next to the boys.

"We're just worried about you." Mercedes mentioned, with a motherly tone.

"Yeah." Quinn grinned. She always looked so remarkably relaxed and pretty, no matter how she felt inside. Sam always worried about that. His tore his eyes away from her as he felt a little nervous for the first time.

"Hey," Kurt was whispering in his ear. Sam turned to him. He had become accustomed to Kurt's flirting, but his energy felt different today.

"Don't do it."

Sam shook his head, preparing to listen to whatever rant Rachel was going on about to Glee Club today.

"Listen. You don't know what he can do-"

"Great idea Rachel!" Sam burst out clapping.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Fine. Kill yourself."

The rehearsal continued, but there was only one thing on everyone's mind.


	2. lashings of the old ultraviolence

Five twenty five.

Five twenty six.

Five twenty six.

Five twenty seven.

Sam pulled into McKinley's parking lot with a blank mind and a protein shake. He pushed his worries further back into his mind, taking a final sip and leaving his car with an air of confidence.

The locker room shook as Karofsky hit the big black punching bag time after time. Sam walked up to him.

"Why are you hitting that?"

Karofsky's large frame turned to face him. Sam couldn't even breathe before a fist streaked across his nose.

Karofsky's eye rang blood shot and he clearly smelt like a beverage other than a protein shake.

Their brawl became terrifyingly bloody and unclear. Sam's head felt less and less solid and more like liquid. He'd gotten in as many swings as he could, but Karofsky showed no mercy. Sam flowed in and out of consciousness, his focus wavering. He felt warm blood between his teeth. He'd never given up in a fight before, not since junior high school. A million thoughts rushed through his half-conscious mind, and he fell to the floor. He prayed that Karofsky would leave it at this, let him bleed on the black gym mat until he regained full consciousness.

But Sam wasn't even down for two seconds before Karofsky's foot was forcing his head down. His eyes closed and he felt nothing.

Suddenly, a sharp pain quickly tore him out of trance. A huge weight pushed his entire body down, suddenly he felt gruff hands all over him. A scream barely escaped his lips. The hands were gripping his belt buckle and tugging at his waist band.

"F-"

Sam couldn't even scream. He felt incredibly helpless and horrified. He kicked and struggled and pushed.

The last thing he saw was red.


	3. the colours of the real world

Sam hadn't regained full consciousness until he was walking through his bedroom door, barely alive. Red blurs cleared from his vision, leaving deep black spots and he could barely see anything as he trampled into his bathroom, out of his clothes. His house felt empty, with his two older brothers outside with their baby sister as usual. Sam barely thought about running into to them, he barely thought. He was barely anything. Stumbling into his shower, the hot water droplets began to stream him back into reality.

And reality felt more painful than a thousand lead bullets.

Each droplet was more painful than the last; the truth of what had just happened resonated with Sam as he ran his shaking finger over the green and purple bruises that coating his chest and torso. The dried blood on his nose clogged his breathing, and he could barely move his jaw. But this pain was nothing compared to the growing, snowballing, burning, fearful pit in the bottom of his stomach. Sam felt like he stood in someone else's body, like he wasn't even himself, like he didn't own anything. He closed himself up, and tried to breath evenly again. Blood trickled down his body, mixing with his new, warm flowing tears. He crouched down, a heavy heart and aching muscles. He cried. He was nothing, nothing in a mixture of blood, dirt, and water trickling down the shower drain.


End file.
